


Stupid Boys

by AluraEmbrey



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M, Not Beta Read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-30
Updated: 2011-11-30
Packaged: 2017-11-06 15:59:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/420686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AluraEmbrey/pseuds/AluraEmbrey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stupid boys. Honestly. Stupid frilly, high-voiced, ladyfaced Kurt Hummel and his gel obsessed, sock-phobic, munchkin boyfriend. Screw them both and their sprouting of being perfect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stupid Boys

**Author's Note:**

> Pure unbeta'd, random steam of consciousness about what I think Santana really thought after the _Perfect_ performance. I admit, my Klainer lifestyle probably influenced this.

Stupid boys. Honestly. Stupid frilly, high-voiced, ladyfaced Kurt Hummel and his gel obsessed, sock-phobic, munchkin boyfriend. Screw them both and their sprouting of being perfect no matter their faults. Santana knows she's perfect, ok? She's god damn wonderful. Bitches would kill to be here. She's got a banging figure, a sharp-ass tongue and as much brains as Hudson has flannel shirts. There is not a damn thing wrong with her, ok?

Ok.

But what she won't tell anyone, not even Brits, and especially not the Wonder Rainbows, is that for every bit that Santana knows she's awesome, there's a part of her that sometimes can't take her eyes off Hummel and Anderson. The way they move together, sit together, give each other those knowing little smiles that speak of how comfortable they are with each other, even when surrounded by people... It pisses her off because she doesn't have that.

She loves Brit. She god damn loves her, but why can't she have what Kurt and Blaine have? They're so comfortable with being themselves and being themselves with each other no matter the situation. They might not be clinging to each other, and thank god because she doesn't want to see that. It would probably make her vomit. They're saccharine sweet, all lovely-dovey, impromptu dedications and surprise flowers on the stairs. It's gross.

But damned if they aren't comfortable with each other. They are comfortable being together even with they aren't showing it. They aren't afraid to be them, aren't fighting it at all.

Fighting it so tiresome.

Wiping a stray tear from her face, Santana puts on her best bitch face, staring down the freshman that dared look her in the eye. She could and would get through this. She's a strong Lopez woman, like her abuelita. Lopez woman can do anything.


End file.
